Nostalgia's Bitter Aftertaste
by Kensu
Summary: Hikaru sleeps through her stop on the train ride home one day. She ends up in her old neighborhood and ponders a life that could have been.


**Nostalgia's Bitter Aftertaste**

By: Chris Schumacher

Hikaru jerked awake. She shook the last lingering threads of unconsciousness from her mind as she looked around the compartment. How long had she been out? Had she missed her stop?

She squinted through the glare from the carriage windows, but failed to recognize any of the scenery that was screaming past. She slumped back in her seat and groaned.

The carriage was abandoned; Hikaru seemed to be the sole survivor of this particular commute. Hikaru dreaded having to sit through another loop of the train's journey; she would disembark at the next stop and board a train going in the opposite direction. Luckily, the machines in the turnstiles only cared where someone got on and off; not what they did in-between.

Hikaru wondered where the next stop would be… Within seconds the droning, amplified voice of the driver told her.

"Kaiko. This is Kaiko."

Hikaru ceased her slouching. That was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. She leapt to her feet and shuffled over to the door, moving from hand-grip to hand-grip as the train lurched to a stop. The doors slid open and Hikaru set foot on that particular train platform for the first time in nine years. It looked as she remembered; though there was little surprise in that. Most of the platforms and stations on this line were at least seventy years old.

Hikaru crumpled up her ticket and threw it onto the tracks. She then pulled the waist-band of her skirt up a few centimeters so that more of her thighs were showing. Then she approached the man in the blue uniform.

"Excuse me sir," Hikaru said in her best "lost little girl" voice. "I seem to have lost my ticket. Could you let me through the turnstile?"

"Well, uh, miss, I'm not sure if JR would be happy if I did that. I'm going to have to file a report," the man said, looking a little flustered.

Hikaru got the impression that not many cute girls ever spoke to him. He had a bowl haircut and wore horn-rimmed glasses with smeared lenses. His chubby cheeks were peppered with moles that were as dark as the night sky.

Time to bring out the big guns, Hikaru thought. She touched the man's arm. "Oh please sir, my grandmother is waiting for me. I'm half-an-hour late as it is."

Sweat was beginning to trickle down the man's face. After a moment he unlocked the door behind him and motioned for Hikaru to enter. She went through the ticket office and through the back door, which lead out to the street. She bade farewell to the man with a wink and a smile.

Hikaru walked along the strangely familiar streets. For so long this place had existed only as a backdrop for her idyllic memories. Walking in this place, which seemed ethereally perfect in her mind, and finding it to be as real and bland as her own neighborhood seemed... blasphemous.

Here was the park where she used to play. There was the candy store where she spent all of her allowance. Of the three arcades that had opened the year her father had divorced her mother, only one was left. One had turned back into the vegetable market it was originally, the other was now a bar: a cramped one, from what Hikaru could see through the window.

Hikaru stopped dead as she realized that she was standing before her old house. She didn't recognize it at all; she only realized it must be her house because of the intersection it bordered on. After a few moments of scrutinizing, Hikaru was certain she recognized the trees in the front yard and the front steps.

A blast of cold autumn air chapped Hikaru's cheeks and rustled her caramel-colored hair like the tassels on a carp streamer. Suddenly, her nostrils were filled with the smell of rain, scant moments before a torrential downpour began.

Hikaru ran down the street blindly, ducking beneath the eaves of each store as she went. She stopped before a restaurant she remembered from her childhood, and rushed in the front door. She remembered the smell instantly; that wonderful mixture of breading, sesame oil, and that wonderful vinegar/soy/chili combination they called "sweet and sour sauce".

She shook the collected rain from the folds of her coat and took a seat at the nearest empty table. She flicked open her wallet and checked the bill-fold; she saw the distinctive red color of a 1000-Yen note and allowed herself to relax. Enough for tea AND tempura, if she felt like it.

As she sipped her tea and stared out at the rain, she finally allowed herself to remember her father. She felt a scorching, bitter hatred inside. It astonished her; she was a bit of a badass, but she didn't believe herself capable of such fury.

Hikaru was aware of the contradictory feelings in her heart, but she had never been able to resolve them. She hated her father more than anyone else on earth, including murderous third-world dictators. However, not a month went by when she didn't find herself playing the what-if game. What if her father hadn't gotten interested in that chippie at his office, and decided not to dump his wife of ten years, and seven-year-old daughter, to run away to Osaka with her? What would Hikaru have been like if she'd grown up in this calm, pleasant neighborhood, instead of where she had: among the street toughs? What if she'd never known Madoka and Yuusaku, and… senpai.

Something in Kyosuke reminded Hikaru of her father. She couldn't figure out just what, though. There was something in the way he carried himself, some look she caught in his eyes from time to time. It infuriated Hikaru that they could have anything in common…

The rain eventually stopped, and Hikaru continued her walking tour of the old neighborhood. It was getting late, nearing six, which was twilight at this time of year. Hikaru finally reached the end of the street, on a slope that Hikaru remembered overseeing acres of wasteland. She was surprised to see that in the past nine years it had been developed considerably. Hikaru was at eye level with the sixth floor of an apartment building; she saw a man inside watching TV and eating ramen out of a carton. He turned to look at her, scowled, and closed the drapes.

Nonplussed, Hikaru turned around and walked back towards the train station. Hikaru once noticed that the experience you have walking down a street in one direction is quite different from walking it in the opposite direction. She couldn't figure out why, but apparently seeing the buildings and signs approach you in an opposite order made it feel like you were on a different street entirely. As such, the nostalgia Hikaru felt was much deeper as she walked away from her house towards the train station; she stopped at an intersection and looked down the cross street.

Him. She hadn't thought about him in a very long time… There was a time when he had been the focus of her life, but she hadn't even sent him a letter after that horrible day in August, nine years ago.

Pensively, Hikaru walked down the street, towards one house in particular. She felt both enthusiasm and apprehension as she came close enough to read the writing on the plaque on the front fence: Numakami.

So he was still here; or at least his parents were. He'd been four years older, which meant he would be away at university now…

Hikaru started as she saw a figure walk up the front steps. It was a salaryman, dressed in the familiar white shirt, black pants and shoes that were every bit as much a uniform as the one she wore. His shoulders were slumped over, but his hair was as black as jet. Hikaru skittered down the street so that she could get a look at his face.

She was horrorstruck: it really was Kazuo. A life-weary salaryman at twenty. What the hell had happened?

She kept hoping he would look over at her: she was a scant ten meters from him, and the view was unobstructed. But he didn't lift his eyes from the weathered stones of the front walk, and then vanished from view into the dark depths of his house.

An hour later, Hikaru was at home and in the bath. She felt her muscle untense as she floated in the steaming hot water.

Her mind was filled with thoughts of Kazuo Numakami. She remembered those days, a decade gone, when she had lived in Kaiko. Kazuo had been the older brother of one of her friends, Kaori. Kazuo wasn't like the older kids, he had no problem playing with Hikaru and her friends. Hikaru suspected it was because he and Kaori were very close; so, by transitivity, Kaori's friends were also his.

Hikaru felt ashamed that she hadn't thought much about Kaori. Aside from Madoka, Kaori was probably the best friend she'd ever had. Kazuo, however, was the one who stuck in her mind; and for a very good reason. Kazuo was the first boy she'd ever had a crush on.

Hikaru felt herself tingling all over—and it wasn't from the warm water she floated in. It was amazing how thinking about him could still give her the same buzz, even after nine years. Hikaru couldn't help it; she remembered him as being so perfect. He had been the only boy she'd known who hadn't taunted or made fun of her. Someone who'd wanted to be around her and had seemed interested in what was happening in her life.

Hikaru frowned as she realized that even Kyosuke didn't match up to her memory of Kazuo. Of course, how could a flesh-and-blood guy measure up to an idyllic memory? She was certain he had been as flawed as any human being, but as she strained to dig up some bad memory of him, she came up empty.

She climbed out of the tub, the tepid water dripping from her now-pink skin. She then began to dry herself off with a fluffy beige towel.

She wished Kazuo had seen her; or that she had the courage to call out to him. How many times over the years would she regret not taking that opportunity?

Taisuke was working at his drafting table when Hikaru came down the stairs. The kitchen was empty, the air empty of any scent of cooking food.

"Isn't mom back yet?" Hikaru asked.

"She just called, she's been held up at the PTA. Apparently they're trying to get some manga artist banned. She said she'd be back late, and we shouldn't wait for her," Taisuke said. He swiveled in his chair to face his step-daughter. "So, what are you hungry for?"

"Well, not curry," Hikaru said. Her step-father made exemplary curry; but he was such a perfectionist that he had to create it from the most basic ingredients: it took nearly four hours for a single batch.

Taisuke gave her a knowing smile and walked into the kitchen. As Hikaru followed him, she couldn't help thinking how much more she loved this man than her father. Several years ago, Taisuke had asked her to start calling him "father" or dad"; but Hikaru had refused. "There is only one person on Earth that I call those names; and he has made them an insult. I would never call someone I love as much as you such vile and filthy names."

They finally decided on Teriyaki chicken with noodles. Not only was it easy to make, it also tasted good heated up: no need to leave Hikaru's mother out in the cold.

As Hikaru watched the noodles boil she pondered what to do about Kazuo. She supposed she could go back to living her ordinary life; but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Kaiko and Kazuo since she got home; she was so distracted she hadn't been able to do her homework.

All right then, she thought, she couldn't ignore it. What could she do?

The thought hit her mind with such force that she dropped her wooden spoon. Suddenly her jumbled thoughts fell into a pattern as perfectly formed as a crystal. She knew what she was going to do.

"Ha, I caught you!" Lieutenant Quattro said.

Kamille shamefully pulled his finger out of his mouth, it made a popping sound as it came out.

"Still sucking on that old finger, huh?" Quattro said. Kamille imagined his eyes dancing behind those dark glasses. "How about I give you something better to suck on?"

Hikaru looked up from the doujinshi. Not for the first time, she wished she had worn a watch. Not only did she not know what time it was now, she wasn't even sure of the hour yesterday when she'd seen Kazuo come home.

She was sitting behind the corner of a stone fence at the end of the the street, next to the gorge. The guy who had closed the drapes on her yesterday was too engrossed in his video game to look out the window.

This is deceptive, Hikaru thought. No it isn't, she thought back. I'm just going to tell him I got off at the wrong stop, looked around, and ran into him. It's the truth… just a day delayed.

Hikaru was wondering what time it was when she heard the voice call her name; it made her jump. She whirled around, and found herself facing Kazuo; her mouth dropped open.

"It is you!" Kazuo said, astonished. "My God, what's it been, ten years?"

"Nine," Hikaru said, stupidly. She'd been practicing what to say all day (to the chagrin of her teachers), but now she found herself speechless.

"What're you doing sitting out here? I thought you lived in—" he started.

"I was waiting for you,". The words just burbled out.

"Really?" Kazuo said, arching an eyebrow.

Hikaru felt her face growing hot. She hadn't meant to tell him any of this: now she looked like some kind of stalker. It was too late to do anything about that now, though, so Hikaru told him about her trip there yesterday.

"I wish you would have said something, then we wouldn't be having this uncomfortable moment," he said with a very comfortable smile; it made Hikaru laugh.

They walked through those familiar streets as twilight stretched on, the streetlights slowly flickering to life around them.

"You look even more beautiful than I remember, Hikaru-chan," Kazuo said.

Hikaru felt herself blush again, she gave a nervous laugh. "I'd like to think so, I was a gawky little kid back then."

Hikaru remembered herself back then, she also had scraped knees, mosquito bites, and rarely washed her hair…. Wait a second, she thought. Kazuo had recognized her at first sight: but nine years ago she'd had long hair. She remembered coming out of the salon the morning she got her thick mane cut off; Madoka claimed not to recognize her at first. She'd thought Madoka was joking, but the next morning the teacher had to give her a good long look before he realized who she was.

So if Kazuo could recognize her nine years later, and with short hair, then that must mean…

"Hey, you wanna come home with me? My mom would love to see you again; she always liked you," Kazuo said.

"Sure," Hikaru said with a smile.

The memories exploded into Hikaru's mind as she walked through the front door. The entryway that she had rushed through countless times. The kitchen where it seemed that she had spent most of her childhood.

And in that kitchen stood the woman who Hikaru had once loved more than her own mother. The air seemed to be filled with the chirping of cicadas nine years dead, accenting the phantom smell of lemon shrimp.

"H-Hikaru?" Kazuo's mother asked with a gasp. The expression of shock was quickly replaced with one of tenderness. The woman ran over to Hikaru and hugged her tight.

"Wow, I had no idea I made such an impression," Hikaru said.

"I always thought of you as my other daughter," Kazuo's mother said. Then she looked at Hikaru with a look that seemed to be of pain and anger. "How come you never wrote us or called?!"

Hikaru felt tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry, after what happened, it was painful to think of this place… and of the friends that I'd lost."

"You still could've come to visit us, you were still in Tokyo," Kazuo's mother said.

"Believe me, I thought of it, many times, but I didn't feel like I had the right," Hikaru said. "I was sure you'd forgotten about me… I can't believe how wrong I was."

"Well, better late than never," Kazuo's mother said. She allowed the sunny smile to return to her face. "Can you stay for dinner?"

"I think I can. I need to call my step-father though, and get permission," Hikaru said.

"You can use the phone in the hallway," Kazuo said. "It's just--"

"I remember where it is," Hikaru said with a smile.

As Hikaru walked through the halls of this familiar house, she craned her neck; looking and listening for any hint of the girl who had once been her best friend in the world. Hikaru couldn't believe that she hadn't bothered to ask where Kaori was. She felt even more ashamed that it hadn't even occurred to her until now that she must be around.

Hikaru dialed the phone and looked around, she saw that the door leading into the family shrine was slightly ajar. A shadow of a dark through flitted through her mind.

Taisuke happily gave his permission for Hikaru to stay for dinner: though he sounded a little bemused. She was going to have to explain why she'd been in this particular district of Tokyo to him later on.

Hikaru hung up the phone and considered what to do next; Kazuo's family might not like her snooping around their house. However, they had once been like family to her: and they apparently still felt that way.

Hikaru walked the familiar route to Kaori's room and slid the door open. The bed was made and everything was neatly in place. Hikaru felt a grumbling deep in her stomach, and her head started to throb a little. Kaori had never picked up after herself; ever. It was possible her habits had changed as she got older… Then Hikaru noticed the layer of dust on Kaori's desk.

Hikaru turned around, and with a deep feeling of foreboding, she went back to the family shrine. She slid the door open and flicked on the light.

Hikaru felt nothing as she saw the picture on the family altar. Later on she would think that she felt so many different things at once that they coalesced into some kind of numb feeling: like how the many different colors of light come together to form white light.

It was Kaori; she no longer wore her hair in braids, and she was much older. She wasn't as gorgeous as Madoka, but there was a subtle, alluring beauty to her features. There was also, Hikaru noted, some baby fat left on her cheeks. Hikaru imagined that she was not yet a teenager in this photo.

Hikaru heard footsteps behind her. She turned, and wasn't surprised to see Kazuo standing there. He didn't say anything; he gave the photo a sober stare.

"…How?" was all Hikaru could manage.

"Sarcoma," Kazuo said. "It's a cancer of the connective tissue. By the time they found it, it had metastasized; there could only slow it down. They couldn't stop it," Kazuo said.

"My god," Hikaru said. She stared at the photo again; had Kaori been sick when this photo was taken? She looked so healthy. "When did it happen?"

"She was diagnosed three years ago; on the first day of my second semester of college. I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, so I dropped out and came back here," Kazuo said.

"I wish I could've been here. I could've…" Hikaru grasped at the air with her hands. She couldn't come up with anything.

"We were actually going to write you a letter at one point," Kazuo said.

"Really?" Hikaru asked.

"She was bed-ridden for the last year of her life. I used to sit up with her all day, playing checkers, cards, reading to her. We also picked up little projects," Kazuo smiled at the recollection. "She taught me to play a few songs on her Casio keyboard. I could never get the tempo right, though. Of course, I think she could've chose something simpler for me to start out with than _HaH_H

_Have You Ever Seen The Rain_."

Hikaru laughed: this was the Kaori she had remembered. The mind of an eccentric, the soul of a musician.

"Anyway, at one point we were going to track you down and send you a letter. However, your mother changed her last name when she remarried, so we couldn't find you in the phonebook," Kazuo said.

"Damn it," Hikaru said through tears. "I should've stayed in touch."

"My life has gone off the tracks ever since Kaori died; but I believe this is a good omen. Hikaru, there's something I need to tell you…" Kazuo said. "When we were kids… Now, I knew you had a crush on me because Kaori told me."

"That jerk!" Hikaru howled. Then she blushed and gave the picture of her departed friend a bow of apology.

"And after a while, I began to realize that I had fallen for you as well. Now, I know this was over nine years ago; but I think if we--" he started.

"I've met someone," Hikaru said.

Kazuo stopped dead. He blinked rapidly a couple of times. "Really?"

"Is it that hard to believe that someone is interested in me?!" Hikaru growled.

"Not at all," Kazuo said. He sighed and leaned against the wall. "I hope he knows how lucky he is."

Ever Saturday since they were in sixth grade, the gang met for lunch on Saturday mornings. This has started when Hikaru and Madoka were part of an actual gang. But over the years the street gang had grown up, or gone hardcore, and Hikaru and Madoka had made new friends; the Kasugas, Yuusaku, and eventually even Komatsu and Hatta had become part of the tradition.

On that fall afternoon long ago, there was not a cloud in the utter blue sky. As Hikaru sat in that booth with her friends, staring out the window at the aforementioned sky, she couldn't help but be content. It was hard to believe that just the previous day she had learned that her best friend from childhood was dead. But Hikaru realized she was no longer the person she was back then. Everything meaningful in her life had occurred after she knew Kaori. So even thought she mourned a little, her best friend was sitting beside her. The friend who had stuck with her in hard times, and would never leave her side.

"What're you smiling about?" Hatta said as he took a seat. Komatsu and Kyosuke did likewise.

"I'm just so happy to see your handsome face," Hikaru said with a sneer.

"Hey Hikaru, why don't you show Hikaru?" Komatsu said.

"Aw, nah," Kyosuke said.

"Come on, it's really cool!" Hatta said.

Kyosuke opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. It was as blue as the sky outside.

"Isn't that great?" Hatta said. "We've been playing games at the arcade all morning, and Kasuga here was sucking on Jolly Rancher's the whole time."  
Kyosuke gave a stupid laugh.

Hikaru wondered if she should reconsider Kazuo's offer.

The End


End file.
